Delia's Love
by RenellaCullen
Summary: Delia is living alone and feels like she doesn't have any life. That is until she meets her sexy new boss...
1. Chapter 1

"**_I rang in the New Year with my mother and two of her next-door neighbors, "_ Delia Sumner lamented to her best friend, Angela Eley. Sitting on her leather couch, wrapped in a blanket and still in her pajamas, she held the phone in one hand and a pint of Haagen-Dazs in the other._ "How much more pitiful can my life get?"_**

**At twenty-seven, Delia Sumner was slowly inching her way up the corporate ladder. Already a project manager at the modeling firm of Soza & Co. —a much-coveted position, and mostly one restricted to those women, typically over thirty years of age, who have a plethora of experience behind them—Delia was living a posh lifestyle. In a fairly upscale neighborhood in Manhattan, she managed to occupy a rent-controlled apartment complete with all the trimmings: an domicile decorated by the famed New York interior designer Francois Dupris; a small, though not insignificant collection of modern art; and a wardrobe to positively die for. Of course, Delia was still unhappy. **

**Groping her love-handles she cried into the telephone,_ "Are you listening to me, Angie?"_**

"**_Yeah, I'm here,"_ Angela replied._ "The cat is scratching at the furniture again."_**

**Angela Eley was Delia's friend and confidante since she first joined the firm five years ago. She was the picture-perfect blonde bombshell with a petite figure, peaches and cream complexion, and the natural magnetism to attract every man within a ten mile radius, and Delia couldn't help feeling a little envious of Angela's . . . assets. Of course, Delia wasn't overly over-weight, nor was she unattractive—she just happened to feel that way. Every day. Every single day. Since she was twelve.**

"_**Listen, Delia, it seems to me that you've got to get proactive about your life."**_

"**_Proactive? Angie, if you haven't noticed, all I've been is proactive since I started at Soza& Co,"_ Delia replied, driving her teaspoon back into the frozen dessert._ "I've been steadily climbing in terms of rank, pay-scale and job description."_**

"_**That much I know, and I'm not talking about your job. I'm talking about your personal life, Deel. As long as I've known you you've been dating losers, settling for second best, never standing up for yourself, taking shit from guys, and falling off the wagon of your diet and exercise programs. For someone who is so career driven, you sure don't have the same drive and motivation when it comes to other areas of your life."**_

"_**That's why I've made resolutions this year!" Delia chirped before sucking on her spoonful of triple chocolate brownie ice cream.**_

"**_Resolutions are . . . good,"_ Angie replied, her tone indicating a lack of conviction.**

"_**You don't agree?"**_

"_**It's not that I don't agree, it's just that no one ever keeps their New Year's resolution. Everyone always vows to quit smoking, give up drinking, stop sleeping with the UPS guy . . . but really, those resolutions will flop by the February. And I'm being generous! What you need is a fail-safe plan to live by."**_

"**_Geez Louise! You sound like Dr. Phil!"_ Though Delia never admitted to being a Dr. Phil fanatic.**

"_**Yeah, and he's oftentimes right, honey! Listen, I've gotta run, the cat's going berserk on Paul's newest antique chair. We'll chat tomorrow. Think about a plan, Delia. Ciao babe."**_

**And with that quick, almost perfunctory ending, Angela cut the connection. Delia hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.**

"_**I need a plan," she repeated. "A fail-safe plan."**_

**She reached for a pen and paper and before she knew it she had a detailed outline which centered around three goals for 2005: losing twenty pounds, becoming more spiritual, and vowing off of men entirely! She would begin first thing Monday morning. She would be committed. She would be determined. She knew that she would be up for a challenge.**


	2. Chapter 2

**The first business day of the New Year wasn't exactly starting off on the right foot. As Delia pulled her small compact car out of the underground parking lot of her apartment that morning she almost ran over a dog-walker and his faithful companion, almost got nicked by an oncoming Lexus driver who thought he owned the road, and was stuck in traffic for almost two hours. By the time she made it into the office of Soza & Co. she was thirty-eight minutes late for work. While the tardiness would have been bearable, the fact that she looked like a mess wasn't. Having to park on the street in front of the towers that were home to the Soza & Co. modeling agency, her winter-white coat met with the unfortunate fate of being splashed with mucky slush by an approaching garbage truck. Much to her chagrin, her nicely coiffed hair no longer looked Jennifer Aniston chic, but rather "Drowned Rat" pitiful.**

**As Delia stepped out of the elevator, not even the remotest semblance of a smile on her face, Marcy, the receptionist, gasped in what Delia supposed was a mixture of horror and amusement. Though Marcy managed to maintain her composure, Delia was absolutely certain that the young woman was laughing at her on the inside.**

"**Good morning, Marcy," Delia said in a falsely saccharine tone. "Happy New Year. Hope you had a good holiday."**

**Before Marcy could even respond Delia made a bee-dive for her office.**

"**Wait! Delia!" she heard the young woman call, as the stick-thin auburn-haired secretary padded after her. "Mr. Gerard is here today. He called a meeting of all the senior staff. They've been in the boardroom for almost twenty minutes now."**

**Delia swirled around on her heels to face Marcy. She had completely forgotten that Mark Gerard—one of the regional VPs who worked with Soza & Co. Paris office—was taking over as the head of S & Co's New York syndicate. Though she had received the memo, and booked the meeting that he was calling into her calendar, something about him replacing her former employer had slipped her mind. It was all that pity and wallowing that she had done over the course of her vacation; it had done something to her mind. It had made her senile!**

"**I can't go in looking like this!" Delia exclaimed.**

**Marcy nodded.**

"**I need a change of clothes. He can't see me until I'm clean!"**

**Delia was trying to think fast. She was so desperate to climb the corporate ladder within Soza & Co. that she feared any circumstance, which could potentially damage her chances of job promotion. Certainly, in a top modeling firm personal presentation and grooming was a key element—an indispensable element—that aided one's chances. No one wanted to promote a slob who dressed in last year's fashions. In a moment of sheer brilliance, Delia's eyes locked with Marcy's.**

"**Listen, Marcy," she began, as she opened her purse and removed her wallet. "Here's my credit card. I need you to go over to Bloomingdale's and get me a new pair of slacks and coat. Black dress pants with a little flare in the leg, and a nice coat. Simple, yet trendy. Size 12. In the meantime I'm going to go try to get the guck out of my hair, fix my makeup and try to pull off looking presentable."**

**Thrusting the plastic card at Marcy, she whipped off her coat and hurried to the washroom where she began combing the slush out of her hair. It appeared as though she would have to sacrifice style for practicality and go the route of a ponytail. Nothing looked like it was going to fix the half-flat coif. As she opened her purse to pull out a hair elastic, the door of the restroom opened.**

"**Delia?" she heard the familiar voice call.**

"**Angie! I'm here! Come help me!"**

"**Holy crap! What the hell happened to you?"**

"**I met with a puddle and a garbage truck," she admitted, pulling her hair into a taut ponytail. Angie quickly reached for a paper towel and began wiping the slush off of Delia's cheek and forehead. "Aren't you supposed to be in the meeting?"**

"**It just finished."**

"**You're kidding! I'm thirty-eight minutes late for work, I miss the meeting with the new boss, and I look like a piece of shit! This is one helluva New Year!"**

**Angie laughed. "Calm down. It's not that bad. Your face looks clean, your hair looks decent; I wouldn't even worry about it. Gerard probably won't even notice."**

"**What's he like, anyway?"**

**Smiling, Angela said, "A hunk with a big brain. And other **_**big**__**things**_**, I'm thinking."**

**Delia seemed to lighten up a little, and chuckled. "Tall? Short? Brown hair? Blonde?"**

"**Tall. Probably about six-foot-two, I'd say. Short brown hair, which he puts a tiny bit of gel into. Gorgeous blue eyes. A very pretty nose. These amazing lips. Strong, square jaw line. And probably muscular beneath the Armani suit."**

**Delia's eyebrows catapulted into her hairline. "Really? He sounds like a model!"**

"**Honey, don't you know? He **_**was**_** one. Mark Gerard was one of the first clients that Soza & Co. took on."**

"**I didn't know that. When did he get into the business side of modeling?"**

"**About ten years ago. Not too sure why. But he's nice. **_**Real**_** nice. Easy on the eyes, 'ya know."**

**Tossing the last paper towel into the garbage pin, Angie looked Delia square in the face and smiled. "You look fine," she said.**

"**Fine enough to go and make my apologies for being late?"**

"**Yeah, I'd say so."**

**Angie and Delia walked into the corridor, and through the reception area, ultimately headed for the boardroom where the meeting had taken place only minutes before.**

**Delia felt herself getting nervous. Her pulse was racing, her fingers trembling a little. She abhorred confrontation with her employers; she shied away from embarrassing circumstances. She feared reproach. As she and Angie entered the boardroom, a man in a black suit was dismantling the oversized cardboard graphs that had been used during Gerard's presentation.**

**Delia cleared her throat and the man turned around.**


End file.
